


Our Child

by thefroglord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gore, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, It Just Does, I’m not a doctor, M/M, Mpreg, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Violence, abigail hobbs is missed :(, don’t ask me how this works, hannibal makes omegaverse irl, hannibal takes it too far again, i refuse to write omegaverse so this is the closest you’re getting, no this isn’t smut, stealin wombs, surgical shit, will misses his kid, will not so much though, womb ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefroglord/pseuds/thefroglord
Summary: Will misses Abigail. Hannibal decides to take matters into his own hands. Takes place after Will is out of jail ‘n such.-I’m...genuinely sorry to any and all of you who might stumble upon this. This was a horrible idea. I just- I just thought it would be fun. And, I mean, I wasn’t wrong, but like...I’m pretty sure I’m the only one getting any kind of kick out of this. Read at your own risk.
Relationships: Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60
Collections: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter





	Our Child

“I...miss Abigail.”

The doctor, Hannibal, turns his head. His ruby eyes fall upon Will’s form as the agent slumps into his usual seat, his shoulders tensed.

“Oh? What is it about her that you miss?”, the doctor inquires - it was his job, after all, to discover what it was that irked the agent so, and soothe his seething. Will shifts, tucking his arms in.

“I- I miss…having a family, almost. It was- I mean, it wasn’t really a family, but...I...I wanted to teach her to fish.” Will replies, his eyes uncomfortably flickering at the grey wood-tile flooring. Hannibal nods, returning to his previous occupation; filing notes. A tedious task. 

“I see. You feel...unfulfilled? With your relationship, being so short lived. No pun intended, of course.” Will audibly winces, and Hannibal immediately realizes his mistake. “My apologies, that was rather insensitive. I...I do not think it was your fault, Will. Abigail’s death.” The agent chuckles, indicating his opposition to the idea. 

“If not me, who do you blame, Dr. Lecter?”

He pauses, and turns his head.

“Myself, to start. I feel I could have done more, to make sure you both were safe. However, I blame Jack, mostly, for allowing you on the field while you were clearly declining.” Hannibal relaxes his shoulders, walking towards his seat. He lowers himself, his knee coming to rest on the other - he faced Will directly, now. His eyes trace his silhouette, though he found his gaze trailing towards his stomach consistently. He takes a breath, making eye contact. Will didn’t falter. 

“...you...really don’t think it was my fault? I- I murdered her, and- and it’s still not my fault?” 

“It is not your fault that you were unstable, no. You lost yourself, and now you’re mourning the loss of your child.”

A pause; a moment of thought.

“My child?”

“...our child.”

—

The usual week between their visits passed quickly, and Will once again finds himself in Dr. Lecter’s office. He steps through the threshold, taking a breath of the crisp air. It smelled like mahogany, and old books, and...silk. Will closes his eyes - there was almost a comfort to its now-familiarity. The doctor raises his head, occupied in the usual place, his head ducked over some form of document laid upon his expensive desk. He smiles.

“Ah. Will. Have a seat.”

The agent complies, lowering himself onto the faux leather. His eyes flicker upwards as Hannibal lifts himself from his roost. 

“So, Will, what would you like to talk about? Do you still feel lachrymose, about Abigail’s death?” 

“...I suppose. I...I wish I could have her back.”

Hannibal nods, preparing some kind of...kettle? He pours water in, turning it on; electric, presumably. The doctor glances back at the agent before his gaze returns to his activity.

“A normal feeling, in your situation. I’d like her back, too. But, unfortunately...we cannot bring our children back from the dead, no matter how copiously we pray. I feel, perhaps, even God cannot bring them back. Or, although it’s dispiriting, perhaps he simply doesn’t want to.”

The doctor chuckles, preparing two china tea-cups with the newly boiled water. He glances at Will once again, his expression relaxed. He exhales into a deep sigh.

“...and, though we cannot replace our dear Abigail, we can create family, again,” the doctor suggests. 

“What, like...adoption?”

The doctor chuckles.

“Not quite.”

He slowly takes both tea-cups into his hands, carefully threading his digits through the handles. Carefully, steadily, he makes his way back to Will, his eyes on the cups. He offers the one contained in his right.

“Tea. To calm your nerves. You’re tense.”

Will blinks, allowing his shoulders to relax. He takes the tea, glancing at Hannibal’s face. 

“Thank you.”

He takes a sip, however...it felt different. The taste, muddled with something different. Something that shouldn’t be consumed.

“...Dr. Lecter, what kind of tea did you say this was, again?” he asks, his brows furrowing into a knot at his forehead. His eyes were accusatory enough, and yet...Hannibal said not a word. 

“What have you given me, Hannibal?”

He squints. The room had gotten...darker, somehow. It was spinning. He was sure he was sitting still, and yet...the walls moved around him. Desperately, the agent scrambles to ground himself, but only drops the cup, the delicate china shattering upon impact. The world around him fades, and…

—

When Will comes to, He could see...nothing. His arms had been strapped down, and his legs, as well. He squints his eyes shut, hoping this was simply a hallucination, or sleep paralysis - anything, to rationalize, to tell himself that this wasn’t Hannibal’s doing. Unfortunately, as delicate but heavy footsteps approach him and the usual expensive scent of the Lithuanian doctor filled his nose, he knew it was futile. Gloved hands peel the blindfold away, and, as expected, Will was met with an all-too-familiar face; that and a white fluorescent light pointed directly into his corneas. He blinks rapidly, attempting to adjust himself. Hannibal smiles. 

“Sorry to take you without warning. I’m not sure you would have agreed had I told you, but...I’m sure you’ll thank me, once it’s over,” the doctor explains, rather vaguely. He tugs his latex gloves back, tightening them around his trained digits.

“...thank you? I-...what are you planning to do, Dr. Lecter?”

The doctor’s cheerful face falls as he pauses, though a smile once again graces his angular face. He steps towards the other side of the room, pulling back a curtain to reveal...a young woman. She couldn’t be more than twenty-six or twenty-seven, her hair a deep brown, cascading down her shoulders in neat waves.

She looked like Will.

“We will be together, and we will be a family, again, Will. I considered adopting, but...that just wouldn’t feel right, would it..? Yes, it had to be our child. Yours and mine. Well, half-yours, I suppose. Beautiful, isn’t she? Like you.” the doctor says, a smile stretching across his lips. Will feels his stomach lurch. 

“...what are you going to do to her, Hannibal?”

The doctor pauses, taking a breath. He looks at Will, his smile faded. 

“...I’m going to give you her gift.”

Hannibal approaches Will, tugging on his gloves once more. Will gulps, his eyes frantically searching for a route of escape. He struggles, the IV in his arm wiggling loose. The doctor looks over, humming, dissatisfied. He clicks his tongue 

“Mm, naughty, naughty, Will. If you don’t keep this in, you’ll feel every incision. I’m sure you wouldn’t like that.” he scolds with a raised brow. He re-inserts the IV, taping it to Will’s skin, gently caressing his arm. He smiles once more, moving his hand to caress Will’s cheek, before standing once again. The woman struggles in her bindings, black, mascara-saturated tears streaming down her cheeks. She screams, Will snapping his eyes shut in reaction. Hannibal presses a cloth into her mouth, before beginning his pseudo-surgery. 

—

WARNING: Graphic depictions of surgical incision and organ harvesting ahead. Not for the faint of heart. 

—

Hannibal pulls his wheeled tray towards himself, glancing at Will with a grin. Devilish, almost. Carefully, he retrieves a scalpel, turning it over in his gloved hand. The doctor kneels in front of the bound woman, slowly pulling up her shirt. Her sobs grow in volume. Will braces himself. 

The blade enters, carving into her flesh as if it was butter. Beads of blood trickle through the newly-made crevices in her skin, as Hannibal makes for himself an opening; an entrance by means to steal her organs. Her womb. Will keeps his eyes averted, though with restricted neck mobility, doing so was...difficult. Her sobs persist as the doctor slowly drags the blade through her abdomen, finally coming to a stop once he was satisfied. He retracts the scalpel, admiring his work. He stands, replacing the scalpel in its place on the cart, only to kneel once more. His ruby eyes flicker at Will, before he begins the real work. 

The sound was sickening. The sort of “squelch” of Hannibal’s latex-clad hands, penetrating this woman’s body, caressing her organs with his fingertips. Will had half a mind to vomit, though he decided it would be for the best to keep it in. Hannibal turns and looks at Will as he wraps a gentle fist around her kidney. Will’s nostrils flare - he wished he could look away. Hannibal reads his horrified expression with ease, keeping eye contact as he rips the organ from his patient, her scream thereafter eardrum-shattering. A tear rolls down Will’s cheek.

“Hannibal, I-...stop, please, I- _stop-_ “, Will begs, his voice just barely above a whisper. 

“Oh, but I must continue, my dear will”, the cannibal replies, placing the freshly-harvested organ on a metal plate, “or, otherwise, this will have been for nothing, and we still will be without child.” 

It was then that the reality of his situation set in. It took that- that little, sneaky phrase, for Will to process. His eyes widen, and he desperately squirms, thrashing against the leather restraints that held him to his metal seat. His prison - his torture chamber, as he was forced to watch Hannibal harvest the womb of a woman who’s only crime was resembling the agent. Will watches in revulsion as Hannibal starts on the prize organ.

The doctor made quick work - the owner of the womb he was thieving had lost consciousness long ago, and as such spared them of her wailing. The organ fell onto the metal tray alongside the kidney with an unceremonious flop, and Will’s attention was suddenly struck. It was his turn.

The doctor wipes his tools with a cloth, his ruby eyes flickering up at Will every so often. Slowly, he rolls the cart over. The agent feels his stomach turn, swallowing. He opens his mouth, but anything he’d planned to say had gotten stuck between his brain and his lips, and thus all he emitted was something...close to a cough, but far more pathetic. Hannibal’s eyes trace the soft pink shapes, but returns his attention to the task at hand. Slowly, and carefully, he sifts through his tools, picking up a clean scalpel. He turns his gaze to Will. 

“Now, Will, I need you to take a deep breath, and hold it. I’ve treated you with numbing agents, but...I would hate you to flinch and hurt yourself, dearest,” the cannibal advises, kneeling before him. 

“N- Hannibal, no- n-“

He gasps as the blade enters. Hannibal wasn’t deceiving him - he felt...nothing. Well, nothing but the cold of the blade slipping into his body, tearing through his flesh like a hot knife through margarine. He watches in horror as the doctor carves into his lower belly. Tears roll down Will’s stubbly cheeks as he suppresses whimpers; the urge to scream, to call for help, to writhe in protest. _This isn’t real- it can’t be. It’s not real._ The cannibal looks up at him, a reassuring smile on his face - though, it made Will feel more unsettled than reassured. His hands shake, and his breath quickens, and...Hannibal draws the blade back, gently pulling it from the layers of skin and fat. Will takes a breath he wasn’t quite aware he was holding. This was just the beginning of a long, long night.

—

Evening set on the town of Baltimore as Jack Crawford sat down to eat - a long awaited dinner with a close friend. Jack’s eyes are drawn towards the doctor, Lecter, as he carries two trays of mysterious yet fanciful appetizers. Hannibal smiles as he sets them at the table, between his guest, and his beau. 

“Sorry, but, uh...tell me again how this happened?” Jack inquires, his eyebrow raised.

“A rare mutation - PMDS. While his external organs are male, his internal are female,” the doctor replies with a smile, answering before Will got the chance to. The latter exhales, his arm gently resting on the crook of his now swollen abdomen.

“Right.”

Hannibal’s gaze turns to Will, a grin spreading across his angular face. But, try as he might, no matter how tirelessly he wished, Will could never bring himself to stop loving him. 

—END— 


End file.
